


Trust

by DJSparkles



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:36:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJSparkles/pseuds/DJSparkles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is ultimately a matter of trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinyadoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyadoll/gifts), [Lomelindi (PirateColey)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PirateColey/gifts).



> This is a bit of a character study I wrote out of boredom one night. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> My lovely hive sisters, this one is for you...

John Mitchell was a vampire. 

Basically, he was a very old serial killer. And he knew it.

He'd embraced it for a very long time after his change, and he'd been one of the things mothers used to frighten their children into behaving. One of the bogeymen. 

Over the years, he'd changed his view, however. He hated what he was, hated the hunt, the kill. No, that wasn't true, really. He loved the feelings they gave him, the high he felt, but the cost was too high. A human life was worth more than that. 

So he'd stopped. He survived, existing as human as much as he could. He didn't kill. He didn't even feed. He stayed away from relationships, even from quick anonymous lays in the dark because they sparked his hunger. 

Until he'd met her.

She'd wormed his way into his affections over the course of the months they'd known each other and he still didn't quite know how. They were friends, close friends, and God help him but he wanted more. He wanted much, much more from her. 

It wasn't lust, either. Oh, that was a part of it, of course, he'd always thought of her as beautiful, desirable, but it wasn't all he wanted. She made him laugh, could bring him from the darkest mood with just one word, one chuckle, even just a touch. She was a joy to be around. 

And he couldn't take that step, couldn't let her get any closer. He couldn't risk her. He WOULDN'T risk her. 

Her blood called to him. It spoke to him whenever she was near, offering a relief from that hunger, from that need. And he would. Not. Listen. He wouldn't risk her.

He'd been avoiding her for the last few days. Begging off on evenings spent together at the pub, from their usual night together with his flatmates, watching the telly and laughing, throwing things at the screen at the absurdity of some of the shows. He couldn't take the risk of being so close to her, wanting to kiss her, knowing where that would lead and there it was again, if he got closer, if he kissed her, if he LOVED her, she'd die. 

He would kill her.

And yet there she was, right in front of him, arguing with him, crying, and pleading with him to stop being such a royal arse, the biggest arse that had ever arsed to be honest, and how dare he make that decision without her? She LOVED him, always had, and -

\- hold on -

“You love me?” he ground out in shock. “How? You can't, you don't know -”

“If you say I don't know YOU, John Mitchell, I will slap the stupid right out of you.” Her grey eyes flashed at him and he dropped his gaze, choosing to study the floor instead of the pain in her face. “I know more than you think.”

He was across the intervening space in a single move, then, his hand at her throat, holding her against the wall. If he couldn't send her away through emotional devastation, then he'd just scare the hell out of her. “You don't know as much as you should,” he snarled softly. Then the truth of what he was doing caught up with him and he dropped his hand, backing up quickly, nearly shaking. 

She hadn't moved, hadn't fought him. Hadn't resisted his admittedly NOT gentle hold of her. Hadn't said a word and he couldn't face her. 

Shock rooted him to the spot when her fingers found his face, turning it toward her, the sorrow in her light eyes nearly drowning him. “I know all of it,” she said softly. “I know that you're trying to send me away because you're afraid you'll hurt me. That you'll kill me. I know that you're scared, and I know why. Because I know what you are.”

He gasped in shock but her sad half smile didn't waver. “I know you're a vampire, Mitchell,” she said softly. “And don't blame George or Annie for telling me, either.” She pointed to the mirror on her wall. “You're not there. And I know such things exist. Just don't ask me how.” Her voice broke and she swallowed quickly before continuing. “And I know YOU.” She kept her fingers on his cheek, and he couldn't look away. “I know you fight it. It's in the way you move, the way you talk, just the way you ARE. You're a good man. “

“I'm a bloody vampire!” he raged at her as he drew back again, deliberately putting distance between them. “I can't control it. I almost killed you a minute ago and you're telling me I'm a good man, are you mental?”

“You didn't almost kill me.” But she stood her ground, allowing him the distance. “You let go the minute you realized what you'd done. And even when you had hold, it didn't hurt. Because you didn't WANT to hurt me.” 

“No, I didn't. I wanted to scare you.” The admission made, he slumped again, hitting the wall behind him and sliding down with a thump. He just sat there, staring at his hands, at the floor, anywhere but her.

It was silent for several long moments before she dropped to the floor next to him, simply sitting at his side companionably. “You didn't scare me. You didn't hurt me. And you won't.” He drew breath to argue again and she silenced him with a gentle kiss. “I know you won't. I trust you.”

He stilled, barely breathing. “Do you know what you're saying, what you're doing?” he murmured finally. “What you're trusting me with?”

“Yes, I know.” She rested her head on his shoulder, then, quiet and sad. “I'm trusting you with my life. But it does no good if you don't trust yourself.” She sighed. “I love you.”

They simply sat on the floor of her flat for a long time then, until he slid his arm around her. “What happens next?” he asked softly. It was an enormous gift, her trust, and he wanted to be worthy of it.

“Well, I guess that's up to you,” she replied as she snuggled a little closer. “But for right now, can we just... be? Like this? Will you just hold me like this for a while?” Her voice was hesitant and soft, not at all like she had been before, all fire and passion and he winced at the change. 

But he would hold her, as she asked, as he wanted to. As he'd wanted to for a long time. And as they sat together on the cold floor, with her wrapped up in his arms, her head on his chest, he lightly kissed the top of her head and promised himself that he would be worthy of the trust she gave him. 

He would die himself before he hurt her.

**Author's Note:**

> When all is said and done, he's still a good man.


End file.
